


A Language of Its Own

by thelightwitch



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18879565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelightwitch/pseuds/thelightwitch
Summary: “We can just kiss, if that’s what you want,” Sam says quietly. His thumb rubs gently over the exposed skin above Grizz’s collar.Grizz shakes his head, reaching for Sam to tug him closer, capturing his lips in another kiss.“I want you,” he murmurs against Sam’s lips. Realizing his mistake, he pulls back, freeing his hands.“I… want… you,” he signs clumsily, 	whispering along with the words.--My take on what happened between Grizz and Sam's first kiss in "Allie's Rules" and when we see them again in "Poison." Pure fluff with a little bit of smut





	A Language of Its Own

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "All This and Heaven Too" by Florence + The Machine

Grizz used to imagine this, when he would catch sight of Sam across the classroom or the cafeteria, laughing with Becca, his hands moving a mile a minute, and tell himself _not today_. Someday, he would get out of this claustrophobic town, away from his toxically masculine friends, who no matter how much they cared about him would never look at him the same way if they knew how much he wanted to kiss the boy sitting in the back row of AP Bio. He was so close he could taste.

 _Not today, but someday. Not this boy, but some other boy._ He would go off to college and meet a boy – more than one boy, probably (hopefully) – and someday Sam Eliot would just be a distant memory of the first boy he wanted to kiss.

Except now there is no _someday,_ and there is no _some other boy_. There’s no getting out. And it’s terrible, it’s a fucking nightmare, but it’s also amazing because he’s sitting on his bed, where he used to dream about kissing Sam, about touching Sam, and it’s actually happening.

Sam’s lips are soft on his, and his hands – those amazing, expressive hands – are warm and firm on Grizz’s cheeks. For a moment, Grizz is frozen still, but then his hands move, as if they know what they are doing even if he does not. They find Sam’s waist, feeling the softness of his t-shirt, the firmness of his body underneath. Grizz runs his hands up and down Sam’s sides and Sam hums happily against Grizz’s lips. It may be the cutest, best sound Grizz has ever heard. He turns his body further towards Sam’s, pulling one leg up onto the bed so he can mirror Sam’s position and face him fully. It’s a little awkward to attempt without tearing his lips away from Sam’s but he manages it. From this position, he can slide his arms all the way around Sam’s back, pulling him even closer. In response, Sam winds his arms around Grizz’s neck, his fingers slipping into his long hair. Girls always wanted to play with Grizz’s hair, and it always bugged him, but this feels different. It feels amazing, and Grizz can’t stop a small sigh from escaping his lips. Sam giggles and Grizz can feel his smile against his mouth. Feeling bold, he deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue between Sam’s lips, and Sam responds eagerly, using his grip on Grizz’s hair to tilt his head for better access to Grizz’s open mouth. Almost unconsciously, Grizz tips back against his pillows, pulling Sam after him. Sam straddles his lap, and Grizz gasps when he feels an unfamiliar hardness pressed against his own.

Sam pulls away, placing his hands on Grizz’s shoulders to lift himself a little. His hooded eyes search Grizz’s face, and Grizz has to tear his gaze away from the sight of his red, swollen lips to meet them.

“We can just kiss, if that’s what you want,” Sam says quietly. His thumb rubs gently over the exposed skin above Grizz’s collar.

Grizz shakes his head, reaching for Sam to tug him closer, capturing his lips in another kiss.

“I want you,” he murmurs against Sam’s lips. Realizing his mistake, he pulls back, freeing his hands.

“I… want… you,” he signs clumsily, whispering along with the words.

Sam just looks at him for a long moment. But the _way_ he looks at him, the way no boy has ever looked at him before, those impossibly blue eyes warm and wanting, sets Grizz’s insides on fire. Then he bites his lip and nods slowly.

He rolls off of Grizz, reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it away, and Grizz scrambles to do the same, also following suit when Sam shimmies out of his pants and kicks them to the floor. They leave their underwear on, and Grizz is strangely relieved because half-naked Sam is enough to process already; he doesn’t know where to look, his eyes skating from Sam’s freckled shoulders to his slim thighs. Sam doesn’t give him much time to panic, though, because he settles into his lap again and the sensation makes Grizz tip back his head and groan. Sam takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss the long line of Grizz’s neck, trailing his mouth from Grizz’s collarbone up to the corner of his jaw, scraping his teeth ever so lightly beneath Grizz’s ear.

“Fuck,” Grizz gasps, dragging one hand up the back of Sam’s neck to tangle in his hair and pull him in for another kiss. “I didn’t even get look at you. Wanna look at you.”

He reaches for Sam’s waist and, in one fluid motion that has him silently thanking those years of football practice, flips them so that he’s on top. Sam stares up at him with wide, delighted eyes.

Grizz grins down at him. “Wanted… to look… at you,” he mumbles, doing his best to form the signs one-handed. He pushes himself up on both hands so he can look down at the boy spread beneath him. His skin is pale and creamy, dotted with cinnamon freckles, and dusted with fine ginger hair that grows thicker and darker as it trails toward the waistband of his plaid boxers. Grizz feels his mouth go dry. He drops his lips to Sam’s neck, then presses them lower, kissing his way down the boy’s narrow chest, the flat plane of his stomach. Sam’s skin jumps beneath his lips, his hands skimming across the muscles of Grizz’s back, until he seemingly can’t take it anymore and he fists his hand in Grizz’s hair and drags him back up to meet his lips again. Distracted, Grizz lets his full weight fall on Sam and Sam moans his approval, his legs falling open so Grizz can settle between them. Grizz gasps, his lips slipping onto Sam’s cheek, so he kisses that, kisses his jaw, his chin, his lips again, as he trails his hand down Sam’s side, catches his thigh, and pulls it up against his own hip. Taking the cue, Sam hooks his leg around Grizz and rolls his hips up, bringing their clothed erections together. The sensation shoots through Grizz’s body like lightning and he hisses in surprise and pleasure, dropping his forehead to Sam’s shoulder.

“Okay?” Sam murmurs, stroking the back of his neck. Grizz laughs into Sam’s skin, nodding against his shoulder.

He pulls up enough that Sam can read his lips, and says, “Okay. You?”

Sam nods. He lifts his hand from Grizz’s shoulder and signs “Okay.” Grizz mimics the sign, the round “O” slipping into the three-pronged “K.” Sam smiles in approval, and pulls Grizz down for another kiss. He rocks his hips again, and Grizz mimics that too, eliciting a breathy, wanton moan from Sam, whose grip tightens in Grizz’s hair as he wraps his other leg around him. And Grizz didn’t think he could get any more turned on.

They rock together on the bed, gasping and moaning in unison. Somewhere in the back of Grizz’s mind he’s aware of the fact that this whole thing is incredibly junior high, but he can’t bring himself to care, because it feels too fucking good – so much so that he thinks anything more would be a little too overwhelming right now. If Grizz hadn’t been 100% sure that he was gay, the fact that he is more worked up after five minutes of this than he’s ever been during sex with a girl is certainly confirmation. He can feel himself starting to unwind, and pushes himself up gently, catching Sam’s gaze.

“Not gonna last much longer,” he whispers, apologetic. He doesn’t know any of those signs.

Sam’s eyes are glazed over, his cheeks as red as his messy hair. He nods shakily. “’S’okay. Me neither.”

“You’re okay with that?”

Sam grins, his hands sliding down to palm Grizz’s ass as he grinds up into him. Grizz almost chokes. “Do I feel okay?” Sam asks cheekily.

Grizz doesn’t have an adequate response to that so he just buries his face in Sam’s shoulder and resumes his movements. With Sam’s hands still gripping his ass it only takes a few more thrusts to finish him.

Grizz comes with a strangled, “Fuck!” his face pressed into Sam’s shoulder. He pulls up just in time to watch Sam’s face as he follows, his eyes slipping closed and his mouth going slack as his hips stutter beneath Grizz, and Grizz knows he’s a fucking goner. Not even one day into his attempted courtship and this boy already owns him.

He lowers his lips to Sam’s, and Sam kisses him back lazily, his hand carding through Grizz’s hair. Grizz lingers for a long moment, then pulls back and sits up, starting to climb off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Sam whines, reaching after him.

“Gonna put these in the laundry,” he replies, gesturing at his underwear. He rummages in a drawer and comes up with two pairs of sweatpants. He tosses one to Sam. “Gimme yours.”

Sam’s cheeks go even redder, and he freezes for a moment, before tugging the covers on top of him to shimmy out of his underwear. It’s a little silly, considering what they have just done, but Grizz understands. He takes the balled up cloth from Sam, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

“Be right back,” he says, making what he hopes is the sign for “back.” Sam smiles and nods.

In the laundry room down the hall, Grizz kicks off his own underwear and pulls on his sweatpants. He tosses everything in the washing machine, silently thanking god that he was smart about rationing his detergent. He hears the machine whir to life as he turns to look at himself in the mirror on the back of the door. He pats down his mussed hair, staring at his reflection. When he’d invited Sam over this afternoon he’d thought he would just show him the garden, they’d talk, _maybe_ he would get up the courage to kiss him. Now he’s standing here, his knees still weak from the orgasm that just ripped through him, and Sam is in his bed down the hall. An unparalleled success, he has to admit. He feels like a new man.

When he returns to his room Sam is under the covers, his eyes closed, but he looks up and smiles when Grizz touches his shoulder. Grizz smiles back, feeling almost shy, and lifts the covers to climb in next to him. Sam curls into his side immediately and Grizz stretches his arm out so Sam can rest his head on his shoulder. He trails his hand across Grizz’s chest.

“So… did you ever notice me before?”

The absurdity of the question makes Grizz smile. “Yeah, of course. That’s why I stayed away.”

Sam smacks his chest playfully, making him chuckle. “Why?”

“’Cause I was caught up in being straight,” Grizz laughs, motioning a straight line with his hand, although he doesn’t know if that’s the right sign.

“You were very convincing,” Sam murmurs, his hand forming the signs against Grizz’s chest. It’s a feeling Grizz could get used to, but the words themselves conjure up something old and painful.

“Not to my mom,” he says. He’s never told anyone this before, but here, with Sam in his arms, gazing up at him with those kind blue eyes, it feels easy. “She noticed early. I really liked tap dancing,” he laughs a little at the memory, “so she signed me up for peewee football.”

Sam smiles sympathetically, his thumb stroking Grizz’s shoulder. “She thought she was making your life easier.”

“Yeah, mmhmm…” Grizz knows it’s true. That doesn’t make it any less painful. He wonders what his mom would think now, if she knew that her son was in bed with another boy. If she knew the way that other boy made him feel. He pushes the thought away – that way lies doubt and self-loathing, and it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gone. She was a good mom, overall; she might have proven him wrong about her, one day. But now she’ll never get the chance. He tries to think of something else.

“Somewhere, there’s a picture of me in that tap class, with a feather boa,” he tells Sam, knowing he’ll like that part of the story.

“I need to see that picture,” Sam giggles, his laughter instantly lightening Grizz’s mood. He’d known it would feel good to kiss Sam, to be with him, but he hadn’t realized how good it would feel just to talk to him – to be able to talk about this hidden part of himself with someone who can understand – and the words start spilling out of him,

 “I was always really good at football, so it was easy just to be like my friends. But now… I sorta feel like I’m twelve years old again, starting over. Is that – is that weird?”

Sam squints at him affectionately, shaking his head a little. He traces an absentminded pattern over Grizz’s heart with his index finger as Grizz continues, “Like I should send a girl with a note that says, uh, ‘Dear Sam, do you like Grizz? Yes or no.’” He signs the two options, then drops his hand to stroke Sam’s wrist.

“You have to ask?” Sam murmurs.  He leans up, his thumb tracing Grizz’s jaw as they kiss softly, languidly. Sam rests his head on Grizz’s chest and Grizz strokes his fingers through his soft red curls. After a moment, he tips up Sam’s chin so the other boy can see his lips.

“Did you ever notice me before?” he asks.

Sam gives him a skeptical look. “A football star and the smartest boy in school?” Grizz can feel his hand fluttering the signs against his chest even though he can’t see them. “Of course I noticed you.”     

Grizz flushes. “I was not the smartest boy in school,” he grumbles. “I bet your grades were better than mine.”

“Grades are just grades,” Sam replies, shaking his head but smiling. “Do you know any other eighteen year olds who quote Cicero in casual conversation?”

“Maybe,” Grizz retorts, just to see Sam give him that affectionate eye-roll. “That’s not what I meant anyway,” he continues. “I meant did you notice me _that way_?” _The way I noticed you?_

Sam considers him for a moment. “I noticed your hair,” he says, reaching up to brush a lock of Grizz’s floppy hair off of his forehead. “I liked when you put it in one of those silly little ponytails.” Grizz laughs, idly stroking Sam’s back. “I noticed how you always did the reading for class even though the football team basically got a free pass,” Sam continues, trailing his fingers down Grizz’s cheek. “I noticed how kind you are. And how tall, I like tall boys,” he adds with a sheepish grin.

“You do, do you?” Grizz laughs. He’s never felt more grateful for his height. “Well I like redheads,” he offers. Sam laughs, shaking his head. “No, I do!” Grizz insists. “I always noticed when you were in a room ‘cause of your hair!”

“Okay, so we like each other’s hair,” Sam says, and Grizz watches his hands and imitates the “hair” sign, pinching a lock of his hair between his fingers. “What else did you notice about me?”

“Your smile,” Grizz replies. He traces the arc of Sam’s bottom lip with his thumb. “You have a really great smile.” On cue, Sam grins, and Grizz’s stomach flip-flops. “And your eyes,” he adds. “Obviously. And I noticed how much people like talking to you. How you were always making them laugh, even if they didn’t understand sign language.”

“Most people don’t try to learn,” Sam says, giving him a soft smile. “That was really sweet.” He drops a kiss to Grizz’s chest.

“Oh, I’m gonna learn,” Grizz insists. “I mean it.” He realizes something, and taps Sam’s hand with his thumb. “Hey! You never taught me how to say ‘kiss me’!”

Sam grins and pushes himself up on his elbow. He bunches his fingers together and touches his right hand to his lips, then touches the tips of both hands together, before touching his chest in a sign that Grizz knows indicates “me.”

Grizz copies the signs – lips, fingers, chest. Sam leans in and kisses him.


End file.
